by C. M. Cevis
“Things are getting out of hand, more than we’d like. And the reality of it all is that we, as humans, are at the greatest disadvantage should things get out of hand.”
Oh, Owen thought to himself. He was pretty sure that he knew what the meeting was called for now. “Unfortunately, I do. Other than witches, you all have nothing strong enough to stack up against anything that can mark ‘other’ in the race box.”
“Yes,” Ms. Red said with a sigh. “And to be honest, were a war to break out, we aren’t sure that witches would stand with humans at all.”
“No offense, Ms. Red, but I could understand if they chose to stand on their own,” Owen said. He could understand it big time. The Salem witch trials were only the beginning of a long list of years of racial persecutions that had all reared their ugly heads yet again when the preternatural became common knowledge again.
“As could I. But that would leave us with nothing, other than weaponry and what little knowledge that we’ve gathered over the years. I am aware that we are quite knowledgeable here, but I am also aware that none of you have played your full hand.”
Owen smiled but chose not to comment on the end of her statement. “So what part of that situation caused you to ask me down here to meet on behalf of my father?”
Ms. Red hesitated as if she wasn’t sure how to approach the subject. “It has been discussed amongst those in charge that the various Organization offices discuss a truce between humans and vampires. One that would require a contract, signed in the blood of both parties, stating that should the war break out, we are allies.”
That’s what Owen thought. And he was about to be rude. “Did you approach the fae with this offer first?”
Ms. Red’s head didn’t move, but her eyes widened just a bit, and her pupils dilated slightly. That was a yes. “What makes you think that?” she asked, intentionally not answering the question.
“You do, Ms. Red. You smell like fae and blood this evening. That is not your normal scent. If I had to guess, I’d say you approached them with the offer and they rejected it violently. And while you think that you got all of the bloody clothing off, you apparently missed something.” Owen smiled and waited. There was no need for him to press or think of something to pressure her. At this point, he just wanted all of the information and not just the portion that the Org was most likely giving others.
Ms. Red’s eyes dropped down to the table in front of her, and she replied in almost a whisper. “I am not at liberty to discuss that.”
Owen was aware that the tone was not because she was being weak in any way. Ms. Red was no slouch in the balls department, and it was one of the reasons that he respected her. But she was a company woman, through and through, and if she’d been told not to speak about it, she wouldn’t. Owen sighed and stood, slipping his hands into his pocket.
“I believe that I know everything that I need. I’ll speak to my father and let you know his answer.”
Ms. Red looked up, her face in a rather corporate smile, though her eyes looked a bit pinched at the edges. “I look forward to hearing from you.”
Owen nodded, and turned, leaving the meeting room. He waved goodbye to Zoe, ignored the armed guards who always seemed to ignore him, and slipped into the elevator. Once he had cleared the building and gotten himself and his car out of the parking lot, he called his father.
“Hey Dad, I’m done meeting with the Org,” Owen said, hearing the click of his father answering the call. Phones annoyed him, so he rarely said hello when it was someone that he knew.
“It wasn’t something complicated, was it?”
“Nah. They just want a signed truce,” Owen said, merging into traffic on the highway. He heard his father choke slightly on a laugh and smirked to himself.
“A what now?”
“A treaty. They want us to sign a document in blood stating that if a war breaks out, that we will be their ally.”
“Why in the world would we do that? What do we get out of the deal, cannon fodder?” Owen snickered and shrugged his shoulders as he drove.
“I don’t know, Dad. This might be something worth thinking about.” Owen heard his father begin to interrupt and continued before he could go off about how this wasn’t even slightly something worth thinking about. “Not in its current state, of course. But maybe with some… concessions. It’s also interesting to note that they approached the fae with this deal and were turned down.”
There was a thoughtful pause on the other end of the call. “They told you this?”
“Of course not,” Owen responded. His father would get the implied rest of the thought.
“Hm. Come down to the office. I’ve got a meeting in a few minutes, but afterward let’s talk about this more,” he said.
“On my way now,” Owen said, switching gears and heading towards the Directorate instead of the studio. The guys would understand.
3
NOAH SIGHED AS A GROUP behind him began cheering something that someone had done in the ongoing pool game and turned off the TV. There was no point since he couldn’t hear a damn thing that was going on anyway and asking them to quiet would probably end in another fight. He wasn’t sure why people kept starting fights with him when they always lost. Years of being the one that everyone picked on had resulted in him spending a lot of time working out.
He left the common room and wandered around on the first floor before giving up and going upstairs. He caught a lot of shit for staying in his room all the time, but it was pretty much the only place where he could guarantee that everyone would just let him be. Of course, a lot of that was because the door locked.
“Hey runt, where are you going?” Noah stopped walking and rolled his eyes before turning to face Leo. Leo was a massive prick that Noah could pummel into the ground without even breaking a sweat. Except he was higher in the pack that Noah was. So he wouldn’t. And Leo knew it.
“Upstairs,” Noah responded, doing his best not to clench his teeth.
“Didn’t we talk about you not interacting with the rest of the pack already?” Leo asked, leaning against the walk with an insufferable smile on his face that said that he was well aware of how much he annoyed Noah.
“So if I forget something in my room, I can’t go get it?” Noah frowned. Every time he caught sight of Leo’s smug face, he wondered how bad the punishment for beating the snot out of Leo would really be. Maybe it would be worth it. He didn’t really like anyone other than Amber anyway.
“Of course you can buddy. Just make sure I see you back down here in a few minutes so that I know you’re not holed up in that stuffy room, avoiding everyone and jacking off, or whatever it is you do in there.”
“I don’t have to jack off, I have Amber. You know that.” Noah smirked and turned to jog up the stairs. Amber was a point of contention between the two of them as well. Amber was the one that everyone wanted, but Noah was the one who had her, and it irked the hell out of Leo. He was probably going to pay for that later, but it was alright. It wouldn’t be the first time that.
“You know he’s just going to run to the elders and rat you out,” Justin said as Noah rounded the corner at the top of the stairs. He didn’t really like Noah either, but he disliked Leo more.
“If he doesn’t, you will. Either way, I’ve got an ass chewing coming,” Owen said, shrugging as he strolled past.
“Oof, that’s harsh,” Justin said, falling into step beside Noah.
“But true. We get along because we agree that Leo is a prick, not because we like each other.”
Justin chuckled. “Yeah, that’s true. There is something about you that I just can’t stand.”
“Is it the muscles?” Noah said, smirking and flexing his biceps. “The hair?” he asked, giving his long, midnight hair a healthy flip. “Maybe the fact that every female in this pack thinks I have a better ass then you and would let me sleep with all of them in turn if I wasn’t more into monogamy at the moment.”
Justin grimaced. “Enough.”
Noah snickered, but let it drop as they reached the door to his room. “You know that if you don’t go back downstairs, he’s going to come looking for you.”
Noah sighed and paused, his hand on the door frame. “Maybe I’ll just leave the house.” He didn’t understand why they had to live like college kids in a dorm anyway.
“Where are you going?” Justin asked, interrupting Noah’s thoughts.
“Like I’d tell you, snitch.” Noah pushed the door open and slammed it in Justin’s face before he could follow him inside.
4
OWEN’S NIGHT WAS STARTING HIM off with a spring in his step. He’d been looking forward to Roger coming home since his father had informed him of what was going on almost a month ago. He was flying into BWI in about an hour, and Owen was on already on his way to the airport to pick him up. His father had offered to simply send a car, but Owen wasn’t having any of that. He wanted to be there with his oldest friend in the world touched down.
Owen and Roger had become a friend when they were kids in single digits. Neither of them had died and become full-blooded Wellborns yet, so they’d gone to school in the daytime, with the human children. They never quite fit in, though they’d both made some friends, so they had a tendency to always hang out together, always do projects together, always keep each other company. They’d even opted to go to the same college, though their majors were vastly different. They got an apartment off campus that Owen’s father had helped them pay for and been roommates the entire four years.
Owen had become Wellborn his senior year in college, and it was Roger who’d sat with him the next night until he’d died for the night for the first time because Owen was scared. He’d covered for Owen on all of his classes, and the two of them had devised a way for Owen to avoid as much sunlight as possible for the rest of the semester. And when Owen had changed a few weeks later, Owen had done the same for him. They were brothers with different parents.
Things had changed when Owen’s father became Suzerain. Or they were supposed to. Owen’s bloodline had always been stronger than Roger’s, and for some, that meant that Roger shouldn’t be hanging around with a family of such high esteem. Owen had pulled Roger into the fold by making him a high ranking official in the local Directorate, much to the chagrin of some others. That was how he’d ended up being sent to the other side of the country, actually. Lower power level or not, he was damn good at what he did, so when California asked for help from the East coast a few years ago, Max had chosen to send Roger. They spoke once a week, and a few times, Owen had flown out there, or taken some extra time to visit when Profane Persuasion was playing a show on the west coast, but time hadn’t done anything to take away from their friendship. Owen was so excited that he was coming home that he was almost giggly about it.
Owen drove around for fifteen minutes before he was able to find a parking space. Once he had, he pulled the hood to his hoodie up over his head so that it hid his face, locked the car doors, and went inside to wait. He could have vamped past the security checkpoints and went to wait for him at the gate, but he’d wait. The last thing he needed right now was to get caught doing something childish.
Owen found a seat where he could see the luggage conveyer belt designated for Roger’s incoming flight, and where he could see the TVs showing departing and arriving flights. Not thirty seconds after the screen changed to show that the flight from LAX had landed, Owen’s phone went off with a text from Roger.
You’re here, right? Owen smirked and hit reply.
Of course I am.
How much do you want to bet I’m going to be stuck on this runway for the next thirty minutes?
Hell no, I’m not taking that bet! What’s your luggage look like, I’ll keep an eye out for it when the belt starts up.
Owen sighed and sat back in the uncomfortable plastic chair. Roger was probably right about being on the runway for thirty. Owen did not like BWI’s efficiency levels at all, but unless you wanted to drive into DC…
The conveyer belt honked loudly, announcing that luggage from the LAX flight was about to start rolling through, and Owen glanced down, reading over the luggage specifications that Roger had texted him. At least I can do that, Owen thought, pushing himself to his feet with a sigh, and shuffling over to the conveyor.
~*~
ALMOST AN HOUR LATER, OWEN and Roger pulled onto the ramp to hop on the highway and head back into Baltimore.
“I have not missed running through that airport all the time,” Roger said.
Owen chuckled. “Yeah, but it’s all we’ve got around here.
“Yeah. So all you need is a hood not to be swamped by fans?”
“Sometimes. Sometimes it doesn’t matter. I almost brought the guys with me. But we’d never have gotten out of there,” Owen said with a laugh.
“Not that I wouldn’t love to see the guys, but I am beat. All I want to do is check in to my hotel and crash the hell out.
Owen rolled his eyes. “Dude, I canceled that reservation days ago.”
Roger turned in the seat with an exasperated look. “Owen, I told you that I don’t mind the hotel. I don’t want to be in the way.”
“You’re not. You never are. I’ve got space, you can stay with me until you decide what you want to do and where you want to live.”
Roger opened his mouth to protest, just like he had weeks ago when Owen had told him that he could crash in his extra bedroom, but Owen shook his head, dismissing the comment.
“Rog, you hate hotels. You know, and I know it. I spent all night last night getting it ready for you. Just stay with me and stop fighting me on it.”
Roger closed his mouth, grinned and shook his head. The universal sign of happily giving up.
“Thanks, bro.”
“Any time. You know that.”
5
THE NEXT NIGHT, OWEN TOOK Roger to see his father. He’d decided that after the flight, he needed a nice night in, and that was exactly what Owen had given him. The guys had come over, and there had been beer and movies for hours until everyone was sent to their homes happy, and Owen and Roger had retired to their rooms for the day. Owen had made sure to let his father know that Roger had arrived safely and that they’d be past the next night so that he didn’t worry. He’d replied that he wasn’t surprised that they were taking some time to hang out and that it was fine since he had a few things that he needed to take care of outside of the office anyway.
Roger had gotten three steps inside the door before Max managed to pull him into a warm hug. Max wasn’t Roger’s dad, but he was a father figure. It wasn’t something that Roger’s parents resented, realizing early on that Max wasn’t trying to take their place in Roger’s life. Plus, Roger’s mother Noelle had been the only mother-figure that Owen had allowed in his life after his mother passed. While he didn’t remember a lot about his mother because he was so young when she died, he remembered enough to cherish her place in his life. He didn’t want to replace her, and neither did Noelle.
“It’s so good to see you, Roger,” Max said, clapping Roger loudly on the back before motioning for both Roger and Owen to take a seat. “I’ll be honest, my son isn’t the only one that’s missed you being around.”
“It is rather hard to deal with Owen on a regular basis without a buffer,” Roger said, shooting Owen a look that Owen promptly responded to with the finger.
“Anyway, I hear that the people out went were really impressed with you. They didn’t really want to let you come back,” Owen said.
Roger sighed and nodded. “They did ask me to stay, several times. I’ll be honest, I thought about it. I didn’t think it would have been fair to them or to myself to give an answer without at least considering it.”
“What made you decide to return?” Max asked.
“There are so many fake people out there, and so many of them are involved in the Directorate’s business. It became some sort of game trying to get things done, and I was simply tired of it. It’s made me appreciate h
ow honest and straightforward you run things here.”
“In the interest of being honest,” Owen stopped and glanced up at his father’s words. He wasn’t sure where this was going, but it didn’t sound fun. “One of the reasons I began pushing so hard for you to return was because of a few things that we have going on here. Owen is doing a lot, and handling it wonderfully, but the fact of the matter is that he often has other obligations to attend to that he misses out on because I’ve requested his assistance with something.”
“Dad, you know that I don’t mind, and neither do the guys.” Which was true, they didn’t. It was difficult on the band, but they dealt with it because they all knew how important the other things he’d been taking care of were.
“I know, I know, and for that, I am eternally grateful to them and to you. But having Roger here means that maybe you can delegate a bit, and without having to worry about someone whose judgment that you don’t trust having to make a call on something.”
“He’s right. I’m not saying that I can do everything, but I know you guys have a new album coming up. When was the last time you rehearsed with them?” Roger asked. Owen looked away, not really wanting to answer. It had been a while.
“Let Roger handle some of the Directorate workload, son,” Max said, concern in his words.
“Maybe,” Owen said softly, though the idea did sound like a good one. He’d think it over.
“In the meantime, Roger,” Max said, turning his attention away from Owen for a moment. “Have you heard about the incidents that we’ve been having here? People being encouraged to question my leadership and encouraged to attend some sort of meeting about it?”
Roger frowned. “No, I had no idea. That’s a problem.”
“Indeed. There has also been another incident, a vampire killed that we’d been having some… trouble with. I believe that the vampire death was the Organization, but I want to be sure that our naysayers haven’t graduated to some sort of forced compliance. It wouldn’t be the first time.”